Dawn Will Come No More
by Dashiell Mirai
Summary: In the land of Terrahypt, a desert land, dull with grit, there will be a child of ivory and gold: she who will make Zerana whole. Bathed in her rays on the Agra's blue shore, daytime forever, dawn will come no more. (Excerpt from the Prophesies of Näile)
1. Preface and Prelude

A/N

Welcome one and all to the first Zerahypt fanfiction I've seen outside of the forums! I know you probably don't want to read the tiresomely long author's note, but I just wanted to clear some things up, otherwise you'd go into this being sorely confused. First of all, if you haven't been briefed on the available canon of Zerahypt, this won't be a very understandable story. If the names Zerana, Cythas, Targilin and Tyg are completely unfamiliar to you, please go to YouTube and look for Syrsa's non-canon Zerahypt briefings. I tried to follow what little of the canon material I could find, but, much like the setting of this story, the wiki is a barren desert. I had to improvise. Now, without further ado, the prelude. (It's really short, I'll post more later.)

They stood by the riverside, hand in hand. They stood tall like the hyptian palms that swayed above them, fronds like the wings of a wild falcon. They were impassive as the mountains of sandstone, worn away by the whipping desert sands, yet still standing. Together, the Agratyrdans stood, their eyes locked on the swirling sapphire waters of the Agra river. They stood waiting for the one foretold, the one who bore destiny's mark. They awaited the child.


	2. The Convergence

It was time. The moons, like discs of pure white ivory, hung above the river. Slowly, they crept together, forming a celestial ring in the heavens. Mimicking the circle of moons above their heads, a congregation of figures sat cross-legged, clad in flowing white robes. Veils of an equally pale luster covered their faces. A figure from among them came towards the center, a cool night breeze tinged with sand shifting her vestments. With an arm shaking from age, the wyrd figure raised aloft a prism of crystal. With a voice like tarnished silver, she began to sing in the ancient language of Zerana. "We are gathered here when the moons become one." The congregation called back to her, like a multitude of echoes. "In the spirit of wholeness, we gather." Her voice shook from excitement, age, and religious zeal. "O mother of all life, hear our plea! We devote our hearts unto thee. We implore you from the deepest reaches of our soul to give us your guidance so that we may make the world whole again!" The sisterhood chanted their assent. The wizened leader's voice rang out like a knell. "Who shall care for the prophet?" With renewed vigour, she raised the crystalline prism to the heavens. The congregation shifted, stirred, and murmured prayers. Suddenly, the moons converged overhead. Unifying their light into a single beam, the drop of light fell from the grail of the gods into the prism. Refracting into all the colors of the spectrum, the gods directed their gaze onto a young girl in the circle. A mere child of fourteen years, when the beam fell upon her, she began to weep, if only out of sheer happiness. This is what they had been raised to do, all their lives. Among the emotion-choked chants of her sisters, she made her way to the shore of the river. Wading four paces in, she removed her veil, and spread her arms, the white linen flowing with the river's currents. Turning her face towards the unified moons, she sang out the prayer, in a voice that was both strong and tuneful. "O, great goddess! We will carry out your wishes in this universe! We will make everything whole! We will end all war!" Taking a great gasp of the cool night air, she summoned her courage, and prayed with all her soul. "Send us your prophet!" Then, the water began roiling and bubbling violently, as if some great leviathan from out of the past were rising from the riverbed. The sisterhood gasped, but stood rapt. A glowing nucleus, like an ancient star, began floating along the bubbling current. As soon as it reached where the sisters stood, the roiling motion stopped. The river was peaceful and still as a mirror, reflecting the aligned moons. With an awed reverence, the young girl, Jila, stepped towards the glowing object. It was a strange casket, equal parts hypersteel and crystal. A white-blue light emanated from within, casting ghostly shadows onto the faces of the sisterhood. Like one walking in a dream, she placed her palm on a glowing panel at the front of the casket. It emitted a pure, bell-like tone, and the crystalline lid raised itself. Lying on the padded grey pillows, illuminated by the strange lights, was an infant, a Cyrathilian of ivory and gold. It stretched, opened its brilliant golden eyes, and stared at the sisters. They stared back. Their life's mission had came closer to fulfillment.


	3. Káli

Káli ran the carved wooden comb over her cephalic membrane, dragging it over in quick jerks to try to shake the sand out. It was always an arduous task to be a Protector of the Watchers, especially in a storm. Eventually, she sighed exasperatedly and tied it back, using a faded ribbon of plaited rushes, painted long ago with vegetable dyes. She turned this way and that, looking at her reflection in what was once a looking-glass, but had been reduced to a mere shard, the reflected image stained sepia by dust and sand. She set it down, and pulled on her ceremonial Beja robe. The garment had looked proud long ago, presumably on some other Thillian of a larger stature, but it swallowed her up, bunching up into puddles of dust-stained cream fabric at her feet. She let out a soft sigh. It was a futile errand to try to look presentable. The head Watcher, Monra, had called for a Beja ceremony, however, that old crone could have called a Beja for any reason at all. In the past, she had called them all together to discuss her strange and puzzling dreams, which she insisted were messages from the Agra. However, it was doubtful the ancient spirit would want to warn them of being chased by a pack of wild knugs. Monra was a venerated mouthpiece of the Agran Spirit, but sometimes things exited her mouth other than wisdom. Suddenly, the low, brassy sound of the Xurn horn sounded from the miniarets. Káli opened the knotted wooden door of her chamber, peering out into the hall. Through the vast halls she went, passing by frescoes of enamel and vegetable dyes, carved into the sandstone by the Ancients themselves. The hem of her pale linen robe caught the sand of the courtyard ground as she stepped towards the oasis at its centre. At the edge of the oasis, the Agratyrdan Sisterhood sat, several crones among them beckoning enthusiastically. As Káli found a seat, old sister Zerfé whispered to Káli, "Sit down, sit down, little sister. It's going to be good tonight. I heard old Monra has a vision to share with us, mm?" Privately, Káli hoped it wasn't a vision about wild Knugs. Or rogue Dutvutanians, as that had been discussed, too. The head Watcher tended to have the strangest of dreams. The Xurn sounded again, and Káli pricked up her aural receptors, and paid attention. With the aid of two matronly Sisters, Monra hobbled across the moss-covered stone bridge that bisected the oasis, and sat, cross-legged, on the dais at the centre. In a creaking voice, she called out, "Who would like to say the prayer?" Káli shrank back as everyone directed their attention to her. It was ritual for the question to be asked, but, despite her best efforts, Káli always was called upon to sing. Her caretaker, Jila, called out from the inner edge of the circle. "Go on, Káli! Give them, er, the Lullabye! Yes, the Lullabye of Fates!" The congregation echoed their assent. Powerless to deny their request, Káli sighed. She stood up, sand pouring out of the folds of her robe, and went to join Monra on the central dais. Despite the fact that she sang almost biweekly, she always felt a twinge of nerves. To steady herself, she took a few rapid snyfs of the cool night air. She concentrated deep within her, and hummed. The sounds reverberated from the courtyard's sandstone walls, dyed a faint rose hue by the atmospheric light-show, caused by the mode-switching of the Terrahyptian artificial sun. Her song started low in her belly and rose high above the tarnished arch-bronze spires on the minarets, sweeping low and trilling high in a melody reminiscent of a past where things were simpler, something lost and unattainable yet. The sound faded out and echoed as Káli looked out at the crowd, the sisterhood which had nurtured her for as long as she could remember. With a noise like seashells delicately clattering together, they began to applaud.


	4. Whispers

Káli, as was customary, took a deep bow, and leapt from the dais so that Monra might speak. The head Watcher held her arms outstretched to silence the Sisterhood.

"Sisters of the Agratyrda!" Her gaze swept the congregation. "I have had a vision!" Sister Ûran piped up from the crowd.

"Oh, go boil your head, Monra, we don't want to hear of your ludicrous dreams." Káli chuckled quietly to herself. Ûran, being a cynical, relatively young Thilian of a good humour, was the only one who could get away with speaking to Monra so impertinently.

Monra wrinkled her nose at the offending speaker. "Young ripsnort. I will have you know," She inclined her head to appear mysterious and mysterious. "That this is a vision from the Agran Goddess herself!"

The courtyard burst into chatter as each individual member began to gossip about what this could mean. "Silence!" Screeched Monra, waving her hands wildly. "Before I continue, I must ask the junior members of our order to remain outside!" This caused an even larger commotion, which in turn, demanded further screeching. After all had calmed, she spoke up again. "Lisabeiru, Marla, Farú and Káli! Oh, and Ûran, you young reprobate! All of you, go to your quarters!" Káli frowned. It was unheard of that members of the order would be asked to leave. On occasion, some would leave of their own accord, but she could think of no reason that the newest members would be asked to take their leave.

It seemed unlikely that the material being discussed was obscene in nature, and besides, she was sixteen years old, yet wise for her years.

Her caretaker, Jila, seemed like she would have championed for Káli in this situation.

Unable to restrain her curiosity, she waited until the other girls had left, and ran up the sandstone steps to the walltops. She ducked down a stone rampart, and peeked out from it.

There, she saw, to her disappointment, that the majority of the meeting had passed. Whatever news Monra had, it had been brief.

However, to her puzzlement, the old Watcher was having a heated discussion with Jila, of all people. Jila was largely a very agreeable sort, more of a friend to Káli than a motherly figure.

The younger Thilian was gesturing animatedly as she spoke, and Káli tuned her aural receptors in to their conversation. "-don't want to do it."

Monra nestled deeper into her vestments and calmly stated, "It was your destiny, youngling. This has been known since the beginning of time." Her tone carried with it an edge of steel.

Jila bit her lip, directing her gaze to the flagstones. "But... you know her! M-monra, could we not..." She trailed off, choking back tears.

Monra grew incensed at this. "Are you suggesting that we defy the Goddess? That we throw away the fruit of our lifetimes?" She snorted. "Selfish child. You must learn that bringing peace to the universe is more important than her life."

Jila fell to the ground, sobbing. Monra bent down laboriously, and whispered something in her ear that Káli could not divine.

Then, the old Watcher shambled away, her ragged white robe trailing behind her. Káli sank back behind the parapet, and mulled this over. A cauldron of noxious thoughts was stewing inside her.

Firstly, she was alarmed, for it seemed that someone within their order was to be killed, and all in the name of the universe's supposed salvation. Káli, being what many would call an idealist, did not believe that anything was more important than life. Secondly, she was certain it was one of the junior members. Why, besides their age, would they have to leave the meeting for? She peered back over the rampart.

The courtyard was empty, save for Jila, who was sitting by the edge of the oasis. Káli acted on her first instinct, which was to go and comfort her caretaker, however, she reconsidered the decision halfway down the stairs.

It would certainly give away the fact that she'd been listening if she were to be honest with Jila, and, while she'd likely be forgiven, she had the strangely forceful feeling that she should play dumb.

Quickly noting the decision, she continued on her way.

When she reached Jila, the Thilian was drying her tears, humming dejectedly to herself. Káli crept up to her, acting mildly surprised to see that she had been crying. "Are you alright, Jila?"

Jila looked up, and was genuinely surprised to see Káli there. She motioned to the banksand beside her, as if to tell Káli to sit down. When her charge had situated herself, she cleared her throat. "What are you doing here, Káli?"

The Cyrathilian pretended to look admonished. "I was just... curious. You know. But, more importantly, what exactly happened in that meeting to make you cry?"

Now it was Jila's turn to look chastened. In fact, she looked quite guilt-ridden. Turning away, she murmured, "You can't know."

Káli frowned sympathetically. "Why can I not?"

"It's just not for you to know, Káli."

The Cyrathilian took her caretaker's hands. "Remember what you told me? What you said long ago, when I first started working to excavate the library?"

Jila nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Oh, Káli, we've had this conversation before..."

Káli finished her sentence for her. "'It's never bad to know something.' If that is the case, then why are you withholding knowledge from me?"

Jila burst out crying anew. "Oh, Káli. I was wrong, alright? There's just do much at stake here. I dearly wish I could tell you, and yet..." She trailed off, and stood up. "It's just so much better for the both of us if you don't know this, alright?"

Káli nodded, and stood up. As they padded across the soft sands, Jila stopped abruptly. "Káli?" She turned to her charge with a strange forcefulness. "Never speak of this again."

As they went back to their chambers, Káli could not help but feel the slightest bit betrayed.


End file.
